Post by The Joker on Jul 18, 2015 23:47:10 GMT -5
The Joker: In that day of January, the citizens of Gotham had awoken to meet an unpleasant morning. The weather was cold, colder than it usually was in that time of day. Those who'd step outside their homes would be greeted with a city painted white, under the covering of a grey, sunless sky. To make matters worst, all those who walked by the streets would be constantly assaulted by strong, chilling wind. However, while honest and decent workers would be weakened by the harshness of the whether surrounding them, certain criminals and madmen found themselves in much more welcoming situations.
Far away from the towering skyscrapers of Miagani Island, deep within Arkham Island's facilities, Patient #0801 remained locked away at the Asylum's maximum security division. Protected by walls and ceiling of thick white rubber, the pale man was untouched by the strong wind, and with his body wrapped by the strong cloth of his leather jacket, the green haired jester was kept warm. Supposedly, The Joker's cell was located right next to those of any other average inmate, a room that while small, possessed the comfort of a bed and the luxury of freedom of movement. But, The Joker was far from an average inmate, and his... Unique behavior made him quite familiar with Maximum Security's beautiful rubber textures.
The Clown of Cruelty couldn't care less, however. Even while being deprived of food, exercising, light and proper sleep, and being daily beaten by Arkham Asylum's security guards, he kept his wide, shining smile, and the joy never left his emerald green eyes. All was a game to him, a fact that only made the Asylum's guards even more infuriated, and with each punch he received, he simply chuckled and cackled and laughed more and more.
Suddenly, the cell's door was opened, the Clown Prince's eyes being assaulted by pleasurably burning light. A quartet of guards, all carrying tranquilizers and batons with tasers. One of them, being the tallest and most muscular between them walked towards the inmate, forcibly grabbing The Joker by the collarbone and raising him from the floor. Afterwards, he said with a harsh tone. "Come with us, and if you make any move or any attempt at "humor", you will regret it." The Clown, however, didn't pay attention to his words, instead, his attention was kept at the man's badge, and the name written on it: Lyle Bolton. "Are you listening to me?!" The man exclaimed.
The Joker's eyes quickly widened in surprise, and he soon gazed at the muscular guard's own face. "Huh, what? ... Oh, I'm very sorry, Officer, I wasn't really... Paying attention to anything you were saying." Bolton tightened his grip on Joker's collarbone in anger. "You think this is some kind of joke, clown?" He questioned. "Oh, noo! Not at all, officer... I am absolutely sure you are a very respectable man who honestly follows his immensely important line of work, it's just that..." At that point, the inmate began to cackle. "... That.... That... Pfffff.... Lyle's a girl's name." He barely managed to finish his sentence, grinning afterwards.
In response, Lyle landed a fist against Joker's left cheek, and afterwards released his grip on him. "Just follow us." He said bluntly. The Clown Prince obliged, and walked alongside the group of guards through the corridor's, eventually entering an elevator. "Soooooo, no small talk? No, "How's the weather" type phrase? No one's going to talk about how the wife and daughter are doing? No?" He frown in a exaggerated manner and shrugs. "Fine by me..."
"Silence." Lyle said once more. "The warden has decided you should remain having therapy sessions. We will take you to your doctor." As he finished his sentence, the elevator's door opened, and they proceeded through the new corridor. "Pfff, really? I thought after I nearly broke his neck Armsweak would have taken the hint and moved cities, but I'll be damned, the old man's as persistent as a cockroach... Unless... It's a new Doctor, isn't it?" The Joker asked, but received no response. He shrugged. "Heh... Well, I've certainly never been against fresh starts..."
Harleen Quinzel: From the time Harleen was a child she wanted to understand how the world works in both good and evil ways. With her Father acting the way he did in her childhood, it only fueled her to pursue her dreams when she was at the point of giving up. She made sure to keep her success a secret from her Father for a time believing that if he knew - well, she really didn't know how her Father would react if he had found out at that time. He was just that unpredictable. However when she finally received her doctorate and her master's degree as a therapist, she told her Father. At first he was dumbfounded and then he laughed as if all of Harleen's hard work was a joke. Of course Harleen was offended , but she moved on from it.
Years later, her only focus would be to headline Gotham News and every so often, she would hit the front page but it wouldn't last very long and that only made her strive for more success. She tried to take on the most dangerous cases like working with Killer Croc but Jeremiah Arkham had said it wouldn't happen. She pushed and she fought with her boss to make her change her mind, and finally she did. Harleen wouldn't be working with Killer Croc to get her five minutes of fame - she would be working with Patient #0801. The Joker.
Despite all of Gotham knowing about The Joker, Harleen was the only one who didn't seem to know who he is. So she was given time to review over everything The Joker had done before given her chance to try treat him. At first, she was repulsed by him and she wanted to tell Dr.Arkham she was off the case, but as she read more of his files and his crimes, the more she became interested. She became obsessed. To her boss's shock, Harleen accepted the challenge giving him the idea that she wanted to be on the front page of every story as the hero who cured The Joker. But really, she wanted to get as close to him as possible and she didn't understand why. Yet.
So there she was: Inside Arkham's therapy room, sitting on one end of a desk and reviewing his file for the thousandth time with chocolate brown hair all pulled up into a ballerina bun on the top of her head with two decorative chopsticks criss-crossing together to keep her hair from falling. When she heard the knock of the guards, she immediately closed his file and pushed off to the side of the table and stood up slowly, one hand coming up to adjust the white lab coat that draped over a red silk blouse and black dress pants while the other adjusted her glasses. She made her way to the door and pulled it open and stepped back just in time to let the guards pour in with The Joker in tow. She was baffled speechless upon seeing him for a few moments and she gave him a quick look over for any injuries - and she found one. A bruise on his cheek that seemed fresh. "Good morning, Patient #0801, my name is doctor Harleen Quinzel and I'm your new therapist. Please, make yourself comfortable on the right side of the table in that chair." She turned to address the guards now. "Since this is strictly doctor-patient privileges only, I ask that you all wait outside. His therapy will end in two hours."
The Joker: From the moment that The Joker learned that he had been gifted with a new therapist, a subtle, but significant alteration had occurred in his expression. His wide, psychotic grin remained, but his onyx black pupils had dilated ever so slightly, not to the point that it would indicate pure bliss, but enough to suggest a small level of excitement and curiosity regarding his new doctor's identity. When Lyle had finally escorted him to Arkham's Therapy Room, and knocked at it's door, small chuckles came from within the inmate's throat, and when the door was slowly opened to reveal the face and body of a beautiful young brunette, The Clown Prince's piercing emerald eyes instantly locked on her own sky blue crystals.
His soft chuckles had faded, and his wide grin unformed itself, quickly being replaced by a smaller, but far more perverse smirk. As the doctor introduced herself as Harleen Quinzel, The Joker remained silent, and as he was set on the chair, the straight jacket at last removed from his body, he still remained silent. And even after the guards left him and Quinzel alone, The Joker never spoke a word. He didn't need to, his eyes and lips did all the talking for him. His smirk was one of slowly-burned satisfaction, a smirk that certain killers often showed as they dedicated hours towards the torturing of his victims. His eyes, however, were more intriguing. His pupils had dilated even more, and he never seemed to blink. He was fascinated by the woman in front of him, reading and analyzing every tiny detail of her form, perhaps even attempts to gaze into her mind. It seemed half like a child staring deeply at a small toy, trying to determine whether or not it was worth his attention, and half like the gaze of a man who had been deeply infatuated with her beauty, desiring to take her as his own.
"... So, pumpkin'... Aren't you going to start the therapy?" The Joker asked in a sweet tone after what was probably minutes of pure silence, his perverse smirk turning into a warm, friendly smile.
Harleen Quinzel: The guards protested against leaving her completely defenseless, but she was firm to her word. She wasn't defenseless - in fact she was begged to take several different types of self-defense classes before taking on this case and she did. She was a very quick learner. "I've told my boss that I wanted no one else but the patient and I," She said simply towards Lyle who was becoming more and more frustrated. She could tell that he thought this would be a session of his choosing. Well, not today.
She cleared her throat and pointed him towards the door. "If you continue to waste my time by being here I'll report you to Dr.Arkham. I can guess how the patient got that bruise on his cheek and it certainly wasn't by another patient since all of his social activities have been restricted and it certainly wasn't self-inflicted because it would be in a different spot and you certainly seem to be extremely eager to stay as if you have something to prove." The guard was shocked speechless at being examined so closely and then immediately called out. It left him even bashful and sputtering, but he obeyed nonetheless and left.
Harleen turned round on her heels to face The Joker and she came to the opposite side of the table to sit in the other chair. With another clear of her throat, she adjusted a camera that rested within hand reach of her right hand to face him. "Please; let's just stick to Dr. Quinzel." Although upon being called Pumpkin it made her heart leap and she fought back the urge to smile. "Before we begin I must ask if it's alright to record our sessions for me to review later."
The Joker: Despite how formal tone she spoke in and how composed she remained in her posture, it was clear that the clown's words had an effect on her self, the long pause of silence before she finally spoke, and the clearing of her throat were proof enough The Clown Prince chuckled at her request, but quickly shifted his attention towards the camera that Harleen was setting up, smiling at it for a small bit. "Well, only if you'd give me a mirror in return." He answered her in a deadpan tone, gazing into her blue eyes with the most serious of expressions he could produce.
Leaning ever so slightly against her desk, Joker's eyes would widen as he glanced at the room's door one last time. Then, leaning against her even more and intertwining her fingers, he continued. "Let's be frank for a second here, Doc... Being locked away in Rubber Cell for 72 hours really isn't the best way to keep your looks in check, and that's not even touching on the straight jacket... Believe me, after a couple hours without even giving my hair the slightest of adjustments, I go crazy!" When Joker exclaimed the word "crazy", his facial features tuck an abrupt shift from straight and collected to bizarre and unnatural, with distorted lips and an eye more widened than the other.
". . . Seriously, though... I want a mirror..." He paused for a couple of seconds. "... And a comb! combs are important..." An awkward silence soon followed for some seconds. "... The thing is, if I don't adjust my appearance until it's in an acceptable standard, I can't be comfortable with the camera rolling. I'll just keep imagining the look on Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's face when he takes a look at the footage. He'd be so scared he'd have a heart attack! And trust me... I have plans for his imminent death, and they are far more direct and will happen at a much slower pace..." His eyes had returned to staring deep into Harleen's eyes with that sadistic expression, and the grin had returned to his lips.
Harleen Quinzel: At his command of a mirror, her expression became puzzled and her lips parted to speak - but she was instantly cut off before she spoke. She listened patiently, leaning back just slightly when he exclaimed on several different occasions. Was she scared? Somewhat, Intimidated? No. She blinked when she realized by his expression it was her turn to speak and she smiled some. "But you look fine the way you are. Besides if I were to give you a mirror they would probably take my license away and fire me."
The Joker: As Harleen responded to his requests with expected shock, confusion and insecurity, The Joker sighed deeply, his eyes shutting and his grin fading in dissatisfaction. "I see how it is... You are the bright young mind eager to jump at new challenges and experiences, but who ends up stuttering and trembling her way through it all. It's fine, it's fine, trust me, I understand wholeheartedly..." The clown tone was soft and sentimental, and he was even touching his own chest as he spoke. "Proceed as you may, wardens with cardiac conditions or not. But if we are to take one lesson from all of the therapies we are going to have, it has to be one of determination, boldness and the surpassing of self doubt!"
Harleen Quinzel: "I see, well anyway," A hand rose up to adjust her glasses once more and she begun to speak towards the camera, though she wasn't in sight of it. "This is doctor Harleen Quinzel with Patient #0801. Name unknown but alias is The Joker. This is our first session and we will begin with one step at a time. Now," She finally turned her attention towards him. "I'm going to ask you a few questions and you can take all the time you want and think out your answers - but they must be truthful. If you feel uncomfortable answering them, simply say 'pass' and we'll come back to that question later. Simple ones first. Do you know where you are?" Although the camera was documenting every event that would happen, she still had a note pad on the desk and a pen in her hand.
The Joker: As Dr. Quinzel's deliberatedly chose to ignore Joker's whole little speech about perseverance and the surpassing of one's limits, one could notice as how his pupils seemed to decrease in size, while his gaze only grew more intense. "Hm..." He chuckled dryly soon afterwards. However, as soon as Harleen had turned the recording camera on, all of the anger and disgust from his gaze seemed to vanish. Instead, what replaced it was happiness, levity and relaxation. He even took the time to wave at the camera for a couple of seconds. Then, adjusting his positioning on the chair, and making quite a bit of noise while at it, he responded. "Well... That's a pretty vague question. How do you want me to describe it? Do you want a dry, professional "I am inside Arkham Asylum, which is located within the Arkham Island at Gotham City" type answer... Or do you want something simpler, like "I'm at the Arkham Asylum Therapy Room"... Or MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, you want a metaphorical answer, the type that allows people to lose hours in pointless discussions about life, the universe, existence, reality, perceptions of self and others and a bunch of other things I could have learned in Highschool but chose not to as I was already an Ace student in chemical poisoning." Afterwards, The Joker giggled softly.
The Joker: "Buuuut, if you really desire an answer from yours truly, I'd say that I am locked inside a small room with the most goooorgeous o woman I have ever laid eyes on... Hmhmhmhmhm..." As he went over that phrase, The Joker's grin quickly returned, as well as the predatory, lustful gaze her he was delivering to her before the therapy started.
Far away from the towering skyscrapers of Miagani Island, deep within Arkham Island's facilities, Patient #0801 remained locked away at the Asylum's maximum security division. Protected by walls and ceiling of thick white rubber, the pale man was untouched by the strong wind, and with his body wrapped by the strong cloth of his leather jacket, the green haired jester was kept warm. Supposedly, The Joker's cell was located right next to those of any other average inmate, a room that while small, possessed the comfort of a bed and the luxury of freedom of movement. But, The Joker was far from an average inmate, and his... Unique behavior made him quite familiar with Maximum Security's beautiful rubber textures.
The Clown of Cruelty couldn't care less, however. Even while being deprived of food, exercising, light and proper sleep, and being daily beaten by Arkham Asylum's security guards, he kept his wide, shining smile, and the joy never left his emerald green eyes. All was a game to him, a fact that only made the Asylum's guards even more infuriated, and with each punch he received, he simply chuckled and cackled and laughed more and more.
Suddenly, the cell's door was opened, the Clown Prince's eyes being assaulted by pleasurably burning light. A quartet of guards, all carrying tranquilizers and batons with tasers. One of them, being the tallest and most muscular between them walked towards the inmate, forcibly grabbing The Joker by the collarbone and raising him from the floor. Afterwards, he said with a harsh tone. "Come with us, and if you make any move or any attempt at "humor", you will regret it." The Clown, however, didn't pay attention to his words, instead, his attention was kept at the man's badge, and the name written on it: Lyle Bolton. "Are you listening to me?!" The man exclaimed.
The Joker's eyes quickly widened in surprise, and he soon gazed at the muscular guard's own face. "Huh, what? ... Oh, I'm very sorry, Officer, I wasn't really... Paying attention to anything you were saying." Bolton tightened his grip on Joker's collarbone in anger. "You think this is some kind of joke, clown?" He questioned. "Oh, noo! Not at all, officer... I am absolutely sure you are a very respectable man who honestly follows his immensely important line of work, it's just that..." At that point, the inmate began to cackle. "... That.... That... Pfffff.... Lyle's a girl's name." He barely managed to finish his sentence, grinning afterwards.
In response, Lyle landed a fist against Joker's left cheek, and afterwards released his grip on him. "Just follow us." He said bluntly. The Clown Prince obliged, and walked alongside the group of guards through the corridor's, eventually entering an elevator. "Soooooo, no small talk? No, "How's the weather" type phrase? No one's going to talk about how the wife and daughter are doing? No?" He frown in a exaggerated manner and shrugs. "Fine by me..."
"Silence." Lyle said once more. "The warden has decided you should remain having therapy sessions. We will take you to your doctor." As he finished his sentence, the elevator's door opened, and they proceeded through the new corridor. "Pfff, really? I thought after I nearly broke his neck Armsweak would have taken the hint and moved cities, but I'll be damned, the old man's as persistent as a cockroach... Unless... It's a new Doctor, isn't it?" The Joker asked, but received no response. He shrugged. "Heh... Well, I've certainly never been against fresh starts..."
Harleen Quinzel: From the time Harleen was a child she wanted to understand how the world works in both good and evil ways. With her Father acting the way he did in her childhood, it only fueled her to pursue her dreams when she was at the point of giving up. She made sure to keep her success a secret from her Father for a time believing that if he knew - well, she really didn't know how her Father would react if he had found out at that time. He was just that unpredictable. However when she finally received her doctorate and her master's degree as a therapist, she told her Father. At first he was dumbfounded and then he laughed as if all of Harleen's hard work was a joke. Of course Harleen was offended , but she moved on from it.
Years later, her only focus would be to headline Gotham News and every so often, she would hit the front page but it wouldn't last very long and that only made her strive for more success. She tried to take on the most dangerous cases like working with Killer Croc but Jeremiah Arkham had said it wouldn't happen. She pushed and she fought with her boss to make her change her mind, and finally she did. Harleen wouldn't be working with Killer Croc to get her five minutes of fame - she would be working with Patient #0801. The Joker.
Despite all of Gotham knowing about The Joker, Harleen was the only one who didn't seem to know who he is. So she was given time to review over everything The Joker had done before given her chance to try treat him. At first, she was repulsed by him and she wanted to tell Dr.Arkham she was off the case, but as she read more of his files and his crimes, the more she became interested. She became obsessed. To her boss's shock, Harleen accepted the challenge giving him the idea that she wanted to be on the front page of every story as the hero who cured The Joker. But really, she wanted to get as close to him as possible and she didn't understand why. Yet.
So there she was: Inside Arkham's therapy room, sitting on one end of a desk and reviewing his file for the thousandth time with chocolate brown hair all pulled up into a ballerina bun on the top of her head with two decorative chopsticks criss-crossing together to keep her hair from falling. When she heard the knock of the guards, she immediately closed his file and pushed off to the side of the table and stood up slowly, one hand coming up to adjust the white lab coat that draped over a red silk blouse and black dress pants while the other adjusted her glasses. She made her way to the door and pulled it open and stepped back just in time to let the guards pour in with The Joker in tow. She was baffled speechless upon seeing him for a few moments and she gave him a quick look over for any injuries - and she found one. A bruise on his cheek that seemed fresh. "Good morning, Patient #0801, my name is doctor Harleen Quinzel and I'm your new therapist. Please, make yourself comfortable on the right side of the table in that chair." She turned to address the guards now. "Since this is strictly doctor-patient privileges only, I ask that you all wait outside. His therapy will end in two hours."
The Joker: From the moment that The Joker learned that he had been gifted with a new therapist, a subtle, but significant alteration had occurred in his expression. His wide, psychotic grin remained, but his onyx black pupils had dilated ever so slightly, not to the point that it would indicate pure bliss, but enough to suggest a small level of excitement and curiosity regarding his new doctor's identity. When Lyle had finally escorted him to Arkham's Therapy Room, and knocked at it's door, small chuckles came from within the inmate's throat, and when the door was slowly opened to reveal the face and body of a beautiful young brunette, The Clown Prince's piercing emerald eyes instantly locked on her own sky blue crystals.
His soft chuckles had faded, and his wide grin unformed itself, quickly being replaced by a smaller, but far more perverse smirk. As the doctor introduced herself as Harleen Quinzel, The Joker remained silent, and as he was set on the chair, the straight jacket at last removed from his body, he still remained silent. And even after the guards left him and Quinzel alone, The Joker never spoke a word. He didn't need to, his eyes and lips did all the talking for him. His smirk was one of slowly-burned satisfaction, a smirk that certain killers often showed as they dedicated hours towards the torturing of his victims. His eyes, however, were more intriguing. His pupils had dilated even more, and he never seemed to blink. He was fascinated by the woman in front of him, reading and analyzing every tiny detail of her form, perhaps even attempts to gaze into her mind. It seemed half like a child staring deeply at a small toy, trying to determine whether or not it was worth his attention, and half like the gaze of a man who had been deeply infatuated with her beauty, desiring to take her as his own.
"... So, pumpkin'... Aren't you going to start the therapy?" The Joker asked in a sweet tone after what was probably minutes of pure silence, his perverse smirk turning into a warm, friendly smile.
Harleen Quinzel: The guards protested against leaving her completely defenseless, but she was firm to her word. She wasn't defenseless - in fact she was begged to take several different types of self-defense classes before taking on this case and she did. She was a very quick learner. "I've told my boss that I wanted no one else but the patient and I," She said simply towards Lyle who was becoming more and more frustrated. She could tell that he thought this would be a session of his choosing. Well, not today.
She cleared her throat and pointed him towards the door. "If you continue to waste my time by being here I'll report you to Dr.Arkham. I can guess how the patient got that bruise on his cheek and it certainly wasn't by another patient since all of his social activities have been restricted and it certainly wasn't self-inflicted because it would be in a different spot and you certainly seem to be extremely eager to stay as if you have something to prove." The guard was shocked speechless at being examined so closely and then immediately called out. It left him even bashful and sputtering, but he obeyed nonetheless and left.
Harleen turned round on her heels to face The Joker and she came to the opposite side of the table to sit in the other chair. With another clear of her throat, she adjusted a camera that rested within hand reach of her right hand to face him. "Please; let's just stick to Dr. Quinzel." Although upon being called Pumpkin it made her heart leap and she fought back the urge to smile. "Before we begin I must ask if it's alright to record our sessions for me to review later."
The Joker: Despite how formal tone she spoke in and how composed she remained in her posture, it was clear that the clown's words had an effect on her self, the long pause of silence before she finally spoke, and the clearing of her throat were proof enough The Clown Prince chuckled at her request, but quickly shifted his attention towards the camera that Harleen was setting up, smiling at it for a small bit. "Well, only if you'd give me a mirror in return." He answered her in a deadpan tone, gazing into her blue eyes with the most serious of expressions he could produce.
Leaning ever so slightly against her desk, Joker's eyes would widen as he glanced at the room's door one last time. Then, leaning against her even more and intertwining her fingers, he continued. "Let's be frank for a second here, Doc... Being locked away in Rubber Cell for 72 hours really isn't the best way to keep your looks in check, and that's not even touching on the straight jacket... Believe me, after a couple hours without even giving my hair the slightest of adjustments, I go crazy!" When Joker exclaimed the word "crazy", his facial features tuck an abrupt shift from straight and collected to bizarre and unnatural, with distorted lips and an eye more widened than the other.
". . . Seriously, though... I want a mirror..." He paused for a couple of seconds. "... And a comb! combs are important..." An awkward silence soon followed for some seconds. "... The thing is, if I don't adjust my appearance until it's in an acceptable standard, I can't be comfortable with the camera rolling. I'll just keep imagining the look on Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's face when he takes a look at the footage. He'd be so scared he'd have a heart attack! And trust me... I have plans for his imminent death, and they are far more direct and will happen at a much slower pace..." His eyes had returned to staring deep into Harleen's eyes with that sadistic expression, and the grin had returned to his lips.
Harleen Quinzel: At his command of a mirror, her expression became puzzled and her lips parted to speak - but she was instantly cut off before she spoke. She listened patiently, leaning back just slightly when he exclaimed on several different occasions. Was she scared? Somewhat, Intimidated? No. She blinked when she realized by his expression it was her turn to speak and she smiled some. "But you look fine the way you are. Besides if I were to give you a mirror they would probably take my license away and fire me."
The Joker: As Harleen responded to his requests with expected shock, confusion and insecurity, The Joker sighed deeply, his eyes shutting and his grin fading in dissatisfaction. "I see how it is... You are the bright young mind eager to jump at new challenges and experiences, but who ends up stuttering and trembling her way through it all. It's fine, it's fine, trust me, I understand wholeheartedly..." The clown tone was soft and sentimental, and he was even touching his own chest as he spoke. "Proceed as you may, wardens with cardiac conditions or not. But if we are to take one lesson from all of the therapies we are going to have, it has to be one of determination, boldness and the surpassing of self doubt!"
Harleen Quinzel: "I see, well anyway," A hand rose up to adjust her glasses once more and she begun to speak towards the camera, though she wasn't in sight of it. "This is doctor Harleen Quinzel with Patient #0801. Name unknown but alias is The Joker. This is our first session and we will begin with one step at a time. Now," She finally turned her attention towards him. "I'm going to ask you a few questions and you can take all the time you want and think out your answers - but they must be truthful. If you feel uncomfortable answering them, simply say 'pass' and we'll come back to that question later. Simple ones first. Do you know where you are?" Although the camera was documenting every event that would happen, she still had a note pad on the desk and a pen in her hand.
The Joker: As Dr. Quinzel's deliberatedly chose to ignore Joker's whole little speech about perseverance and the surpassing of one's limits, one could notice as how his pupils seemed to decrease in size, while his gaze only grew more intense. "Hm..." He chuckled dryly soon afterwards. However, as soon as Harleen had turned the recording camera on, all of the anger and disgust from his gaze seemed to vanish. Instead, what replaced it was happiness, levity and relaxation. He even took the time to wave at the camera for a couple of seconds. Then, adjusting his positioning on the chair, and making quite a bit of noise while at it, he responded. "Well... That's a pretty vague question. How do you want me to describe it? Do you want a dry, professional "I am inside Arkham Asylum, which is located within the Arkham Island at Gotham City" type answer... Or do you want something simpler, like "I'm at the Arkham Asylum Therapy Room"... Or MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, you want a metaphorical answer, the type that allows people to lose hours in pointless discussions about life, the universe, existence, reality, perceptions of self and others and a bunch of other things I could have learned in Highschool but chose not to as I was already an Ace student in chemical poisoning." Afterwards, The Joker giggled softly.
The Joker: "Buuuut, if you really desire an answer from yours truly, I'd say that I am locked inside a small room with the most goooorgeous o woman I have ever laid eyes on... Hmhmhmhmhm..." As he went over that phrase, The Joker's grin quickly returned, as well as the predatory, lustful gaze her he was delivering to her before the therapy started.